“But do they exist now?” I say. “On earth?”
Seymour shrugs. “Mr. Grey says the government is building them.”
Matt paces. “He says the government is trying to build them. From what I heard, it sounded like the Nazis were trying to build them too. But these Fastwalkers that have been developed, they’re poor imitations of the real vimanas.”
“Because they can’t travel to the stars?” Seymour says. “Or because heavenly beings are not flying around in them?”
Matt hesitates. “Maybe both.”
Seymour nods. “That’s an interesting idea. But let’s stay with what we learned from Sita’s trance. The Nazis didn’t just expect her to confirm that the vimanas were real, they were confident she could give them hard data on how to build one. Where did that confidence come from?”
“Karna described the interior of the vimana to Sita in detail,” Matt says.
“But I didn’t hear Sita giving that detail to Himmler,” Seymour says. “At least not in that meeting they had. Also, even before Sita told Himmler about Karna and saw the vimana, Himmler knew she knew about them. It was like he read about her in a book.”
“A book Hitler’s scavengers found in India?” Matt asks.
“That’s the impression I got,” I say, breaking in. I feel I should at least comment on my own memories. “It’s obvious Klein and Himmler knew about me from an ancient source. That’s how I ended up in their damn file. They had read about me. It’s the only explanation.”
“I agree,” Seymour says.
Matt stares at me. “Why did you stop when you did?”
“I don’t know.” I stand and walk to the sink, picking up a glass. I’m dying for a drink of water. Blood would be even better. “There’s still some kind of block.”
Matt turns to Seymour. “What’s the block?” he asks.
Seymour is uncomfortable. “Whatever happens next is pretty bad.”
“Are you saying she’s afraid to face it?” Matt asks.
“Hello,” I say. “I’m right here. You can ask me.”
“But you just said you don’t know what is causing the block,” Matt says.
“Look, let’s work with what we’ve got,” Seymour interrupts, trying to protect me, or my memory. “It’s clear the Nazis believed they could win the war if they could tap into vimana technology. That doesn’t surprise me. With a handful of ships that could move that fast, they could have destroyed the Allies’ entire air force.”
“They were not trying to win the war with fast-flying ships,” I say.
Seymour goes to speak and stops. “How, then?”
I point at Matt. “Ask this guy.”
“Why me?” Matt says.
“You said you beat the game,” I say.
“So?” Matt says.
“Seymour, what is the goal of the game?” I ask. “The one the Cradle posted on the Internet?”
Seymour’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. “To find a spaceship and fly it back to the center of the galaxy.” He stops and speaks to Matt. “You really beat it?”
“Yes,” Matt says.
“So you know where it is,” I say to Matt.
“Where what is?” Seymour asks.
I raise my voice. “The vimana. The real vimana. The one from five thousand years ago. The one that crash-landed in the lake.”
Seymour lifts his hand. “Wait a second? Are you saying that all this time the Cradle knew where a real vimana was?”
“Maybe they knew, maybe they didn’t know,” I say. “But the power they were channeling definitely knows.”
“Tarana?” Seymour says.
I nod. “Does he know, Matt?”
Matt hesitates. “Yes and no.”
“That’s a safe answer,” I snap.
“Don’t get angry, I’m trying to help you remember,” Matt says. “The goal of the game was not the vimana that Karna led you to in the lake.”
“How do you know?” Seymour asks. “You weren’t there.”
“No. But my father was,” Matt says.
“Yaksha,” I gasp. “I don’t remember seeing him that night.”
“He was there, he told me what happened. He knew you were near the campfire when Krishna was speaking. He was worried about you, so he followed you back to the Kauravas’ camp. He followed you and the man with the box and Duryodhana and Karna to the crashed ship.”
“I don’t remember any of this!” I gasp.
“I know,” Matt says.
“Wait a second,” Seymour interrupts. “I just thought of something. Sita saw Umara that night five thousand years ago. Yet Sita didn’t know Umara when she met her two months ago. How is that possible?”
“Because Sita remembered nothing that happened that night,” Matt says.
“How did she lose so many crucial memories?” Seymour asks.
“How indeed?” Matt says.
“You still haven’t answered our question about the ultimate goal of the game,” I say to Matt. “If it wasn’t to find the crashed vimana, then what was it?”
“To find the same thing the Nazis were seeking,” Matt says.
“They were trying to win a war,” Seymour says. “The purpose of the game is to find a spaceship. They wanted to find the ship so they could build them and win the war. That’s got to be the answer.”
“That’s not the answer,” Matt says.
“Did Yaksha tell you the answer?” I ask.
“Yes,” Matt says.
“Tell us what it is!” I say, exasperated.
“I will. Soon,” Matt says.
“Now!” I order.
Matt shakes his head but doesn’t answer.
“Tarana created that game,” I warn Matt. “He didn’t create it for your own good. The game is evil—John has told us as much. Why do you act like it contains the secret of secrets?”
“The game is important,” Matt says. “But I think Mr. Grey is right. I think you are the secret of secrets. Or the key, as he said.”
“Spying on me again?” I say.
Matt shrugs. “I can’t help but hear what people say around me.”
Seymour shakes his head. “Just when I think I have everything figured out, you bring up all this shit. What are we supposed to do now?”
“Get Mr. Grey and go to Joshua Tree National Park,” Matt says.
“What’s in Joshua Tree?” I ask, although I should know. That was where John was conceived, and that was where he was taken when he was kidnapped by a monster before he was rescued by me. I have a history with the place. So, apparently, does Matt.
“The end of the game,” Matt says.
• • •
Dr. Tower is still at the hospital when I arrive with Matt and Seymour. The doctor assures us the operation went fine.
“We were able to relieve the pressure and stop the bleeding in Joel’s temporal lobe,” Dr. Tower explains, his focus on me. “If there are no further complications, your brother should make a full recovery.”
“Wonderful,” I say with feeling. “Can we see him?”
“He’s in recovery right now. He’s heavily sedated. You can see him but don’t expect him to respond.” Dr. Tower looks at my two companions. “Only immediate family is allowed in.”
“These are his brothers,” I say with a straight face. Of course, neither Seymour nor Matt looks the least bit like Mr. Grey. Dr. Tower reacts like he’s heard the line a thousand times before and doesn’t care that it’s a lie.
“Please keep your visit short,” he says and walks away.
“How are we going to break him out?” Seymour asks.
“All we need is a gurney,” Matt says.
“I don’t understand why he needs to come with us,” Seymour says.
“He wouldn’t be here unless it was important,” Matt says.
Talk about an odd remark. I fix my eyes on Matt. “Explain,” I say.
Matt shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”
“You
’re acting like you know who he is,” I say. “Who he really is.”
“Because I have a pretty good idea who he is,” Matt says.
“Tell us,” Seymour demands.
“Patience,” Matt says.
I snort. “You accuse me of keeping secrets. Breaking him out of here could be dangerous. The move might kill him.” I add, “You know he has a family.”
“He’s the one who made you promise not to leave him behind,” Matt says. “It’s his choice, not yours.”
I groan inwardly. “All right. But let’s try to keep whatever drug-laced IVs are flowing into his veins intact. He just had his head sawed open. We have to be careful he doesn’t get a seizure or a blood clot.”
“We should borrow one of the hospital’s ambulances,” Matt says.
“ ‘Borrow’?” Seymour says. “Will they see it again?”
“Doubtful,” Matt says, and smiles. He has not smiled in a long time, not even while making love to me. Something is about to happen that he’s looked forward to for a long time. I see it in his face without having any idea what it is.
Naturally, the medical staff on duty are no match for me and Matt. At most the doctors and nurses see a few weird blurs and suddenly one of their patients is missing. The only bump in our great escape is that Brutran is waiting for us beside the ambulances.
“Did you think I would stay at the hotel and watch HBO?” she says.
“Who’s watching Jolie?” Seymour asks.
“The hotel has an excellent babysitting program. Anyway, Jolie’s asleep. I’m hoping we get back before dawn.” She says the last with a glance at Matt.
“There’s an excellent chance we’ll all be dead by dawn,” Matt says.
Brutran is not intimidated. “I’ve been living on the edge so long I feel lost without it.” She goes to climb in the ambulance. I’m surprised when Matt blocks her way.
“I’m serious,” he says. “What we’re about to do . . . it’s extremely dangerous. Jolie needs her mother.”
Brutran can’t believe the guy she’s been kissing up to is betraying her at such a critical moment. “None of you would have gotten this far without me,” she snaps.
“We’re grateful,” Matt says. “But that changes nothing. You’re staying.”
Brutran looks to me for help—without much hope—before her eyes switch to Seymour. He just hangs his head but I detect a faint smile. Finally she turns back to Matt.
“What am I supposed to do if none of you return?” she asks.
“Try your best to live a decent life,” I say.
Matt puts a hand on her shoulder. “I do this for your daughter. That’s the only reason. Go, one of us will call you tomorrow. I promise.”
Brutran is sharp enough to know Matt is immune to her persuasive powers. “Best of luck,” she says before she walks away. When she is out of earshot Seymour pokes the side of Matt’s arm.
“How come you’re not worried about me getting killed?” he asks.
Matt just smiles. But it is not a reassuring smile.
We load Mr. Grey—and an assortment of tubes, needles, and bags of fluids—into the ambulance and hit the road. Matt drives while Seymour and I sit in the back. The rear seats are uncomfortable but I want to keep an eye on Mr. Grey.
Joshua Tree is 250 miles southwest of Las Vegas, a four-hour drive. I figure we’ll reach it before sunrise. If perchance we get lost, I remember the towering Joshua trees that mark the historic spot.
Which makes for a curious coincidence.
Matt has already made it clear that the vimana—it’s hard to imagine that we’re actually going in search of a spaceship—is guarded by two magnificent Joshua trees. As we drive toward the national park, I feel a sense of having come full circle.
While we drive, I let Seymour study The Story of Veronica. He devours it in one greedy read. He’s always been a fast reader.
“I want the last chapter,” he complains when he finishes.
“Mr. Grey told me he hasn’t translated it yet,” I say.
“There’s only one page left,” Seymour says.
“I know, he’s lying,” I reply.
“Why?”
I frown. “That I don’t know.”
“It’s interesting how the Master and Krishna sound so similar.”
“The same but different,” I say. “Like General Grant and General Patton.”
“It’s hard to imagine they were the same person.”
“The same soul. That’s the whole point. The personality changes as the body changes.” I add, “That might even be the same with Krishna and Christ.”
“Do you think the Master that Veronica spoke to was Christ?”
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Nothing he said sounded like the Bible.”
“True. But he was talking to a young woman about her life. She never heard him address the public.”
“And time has a way of distorting even the wisest words. Who knows what Christ even taught?” Seymour stops. “But whoever Veronica’s Master was, I would have loved to have met him.”
“And her,” I say. “She was a gutsy little thing.”
Halfway to Joshua Tree, Mr. Grey wakes up. He opens his eyes and carefully scans the compartment. He smiles when he sees me.
“Thank you, Sita,” he says.
“You’re welcome, I hope. You know this trip could kill you.”
“This is where I belong. Do you know where you’re going?”
“Matt’s the one who’s driving. He’s taking us to Joshua Tree National Park.” I pause. “What would your superiors say to that?”
“They would be pleased.” He pauses. “It’s time I checked in with them. Do you have a cell I can borrow?”
I hand him mine. “You’re going to talk to them in front of us?”
“Not exactly.” At first I think Mr. Grey is sending a text message but he only hits eleven keys—like a phone number. I hear it ring on the other end. Someone picks up. Mr. Grey hits another button before hanging up. Obviously he’s sending someone a prearranged message. He keeps the phone and I don’t ask for it back.
But I’m not happy with what he’s done.
“I thought you might call your family,” I say.
“Not yet,” he says.
A few minutes go by. Outside, beneath the glow of the moon, the dark desert rolls along. Matt is driving at eighty miles an hour. I don’t worry about getting stopped by the police. Matt will know when one is in the area. No, my concerns are much more serious.
“Did you translate the end of Veronica’s story?” Seymour asks.
“Not yet,” Mr. Grey repeats. He is definitely lying, and I have never heard him lie before.
I still care for him but I suddenly don’t trust him. The opposing emotions are hard to bottle up inside. I should, though, it would be the wiser move. But I seldom do the wise thing when I’m pissed off.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Weak. Sore. Do you have any water?”
“Seymour, open one of those Evian bottles. Be sure to put a straw in it. Thank you.” Seymour hands me the water and I hold the straw to Mr. Grey’s mouth. He drinks hungrily and then coughs. I quickly pull away the bottle, saying, “Small sips. You don’t want to choke.”
He gestures to the IVs in his arms. “Are these necessary?”
“Dr. Tower says you need your medicine,” I say.
“I’m pretty sure Dr. Tower is wondering where I am about now,” Mr. Grey replies with a grin.
“How about Sarah Goodwin?” I ask.
Mr. Grey blinks. “Pardon?”
“Is she wondering where you are? Where we are?”
“I don’t know.” Mr. Grey looks suddenly pale in the moonlight that peeks through the ambulance window. Or else he’s frightened by my grim expression. “What’s the matter, Sita?” he asks.
“Who did you call just now?”
“It’s not important.”
“But it is. Tell me.
”
Mr. Grey lies back and closes his eyes and mutters, “Damn.”
“What’s going on?” Seymour asks, confused.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I call to Matt.
“Mr. Grey sent someone a signal,” Matt calls back.
“Who did he call?” Seymour asks.
“He dialed the number Shanti scribbled on the back of the lawyer’s business card. That mysterious number none of us dared to call.” My eyes narrow on Mr. Grey. “Are your superiors and Tarana one and the same?”
Mr. Grey opens his eyes. “No. They have nothing in common.”
I go to yell at him but catch myself. I hear truth in his words. But then I begin to doubt the accuracy of my own abilities. I fell for Shanti’s lies. Perhaps Mr. Grey is deceiving me just as easily.
“Why?” I ask.
“You can’t save Sarah Goodwin unless someone brings her to us.”
“How do you know they’ll bring her?” I ask.
“They used her grandmother last time and it worked. They’ll use Sarah this time.” Mr. Grey glances at Seymour. “They’ll use whatever it takes.”
“Damn you, I saved her grandmother from the camp. I saved her grandfather. It didn’t work last time. How dare you . . .” I don’t finish, I can’t. I’m so angry I can’t find the words.
“Are you saying the people who have been trying to kill us are going to be at the spaceship?” Seymour asks.
“In a manner of speaking,” Mr. Grey replies.
Seymour is obviously shaken by the possibility—he is not the only one. However, at the same time, I can tell he is thinking deeply, and that he is aware that I feel betrayed. He reaches over and takes my hand.
“Sita. Think,” he says. “Whoever posted the game on the Internet knew the solution to the game. So whoever they are, they’re not using us to find the vimana. They already know where it is. They want something else from us.”